


Push Me, Pull You (Deeper)

by McKay



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 07:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McKay/pseuds/McKay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaric knows quite well that Damon is a dick, but that's not all he knows about Damon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push Me, Pull You (Deeper)

Sex with Damon is a blood-spattering, bruise-inducing battle of wills that Alaric has enjoyed far more than he cares to admit. The problem is that most of the time, they both want to top, and while Alaric would be happy to stick with hands and mouths in order to avoid any conflict, Damon gets off on the dominance battles too much to let it go. It’s another game to Damon, one he enjoys playing for reasons Alaric doesn’t totally understand. He chalks it up to Damon being Damon, i.e. being incapable of doing _anything_ \- even sex - the easy way.

It’s an unequal battle, of course, even though Alaric keeps his ring on in case things get too out of hand, but if Damon really wanted to dominate Alaric completely, he could do it without breaking a sweat. Instead, he keeps his strength and speed in check, seeming to enjoy the grappling more than winning.

Well, sometimes. Alaric has had his share of rug-burned knees and elbows, and he’s quite familiar with the patterns on the ceiling over Damon’s bed as well. But there are nights when he doesn’t want to give in. Sometimes, he wants to watch Damon’s face grow flushed and those mesmerizing eyes grow half-lidded as Damon loses himself in pleasure. Sometimes, he wants to feel Damon’s lean body pinned beneath him. Sometimes, he wants to watch his cock sliding into Damon’s tight ass. Sometimes, he’s not in the mood to be fucked, period.

Damon pushes him, of course, because pushing is what Damon does best, but somehow, Damon also seems to know where the limits are. Just when Alaric is on the verge of shifting from stubbornly resistant to seriously pissed off, Damon laughs at him right before straddling his hips and riding him until his world dwindles to nothing but heat and sweat and a pleasure so intense, he can scarcely contain it. Or Damon rolls his eyes dramatically and pulls Alaric on top of him, spreading his legs with the air of one conferring a great favor - even as he clamps both hands on Alaric’s ass and pushes him deeper.

Tonight, however, Alaric has a couple of drinks in him, and he’s feeling mellow and agreeable, so when Damon pushes him against the wall and aligns their bodies, he surrenders willingly, not in the mood for a battle for once. He tilts his chin when Damon noses along the side of his throat.

“It’s okay, you know,” he murmurs. “I’ve been without vervain for a while.”

Damon lifts his head and smirks wickedly. “Wish I’d known. I’d have just compelled you to do what I want instead of bothering to fight you for it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Alaric replies with absolute certainty in his voice, and Damon makes a little scoffing noise.

“How do you know?”

Alaric’s smile is knowing as he relaxes against the wall and lifts his arms over his head, crossing his wrists in a deliberately submissive pose. “Because you want this to be real.”

There’s a flash of something like shock in Damon’s eyes, but it disappears before Alaric can be sure. “Is it?” he asks, a challenging edge in his voice, and Alaric knows why because he knows Damon has trust issues that are as deep and wide as the Grand Canyon.

The thing that people seem to miss is that it takes a long time for someone to matter to Damon, but once they do - once they get behind the walls - they _matter_. And Alaric knows he matters. It doesn’t make admitting the truth any easier, however, because this is still Damon of the reinforced walls patrolled by armed guards, and Alaric’s voice is ragged and husky when he answers at last.

“Yeah, it is.”

Damon freezes, his expressive features going blank, and for a moment, Alaric wonders if he’s about to bolt - and then Damon is kissing him, hard and hungry, like a starving man at a banquet. When he releases Alaric’s mouth at last, he trails kisses along Alaric’s jaw down to his throat, and Alaric tilts his chin again and rests his hand on the back of Damon’s head, giving silent permission. They’ve never done this before. _He’s_ never done this before, and his stomach clenches in apprehension over the unknown.

He feels Damon’s lips brushing his skin in an almost-kiss, feels the warmth of Damon’s breath, feels the prick of fangs, and he releases the breath he’s been holding on a sharp gasp as Damon bites down. He closes his eyes and threads his fingers in Damon’s hair, feeling the power of Damon’s sucking mouth, feeling the tickle of blood running down his chest. They’ve touched and tasted and taken each other in so many ways, but it’s never been like _this_.

He’s never felt so connected to anyone before, especially not Damon, but this is a joining beyond sex, painful and pleasurable and so much more than he ever imagined it could be. He feels his cock growing hard, and Damon obligingly wedges his thigh between Alaric’s legs, offering relief, and Alaric accepts gratefully, rocking in an increasingly desperate and erratic rhythm as his need escalates. He’s vaguely aware of Damon rocking with him, grabbing his hips and urging him on, and he doesn’t even care that they’re both fully dressed because Damon is already inside him, both penetrating and swallowing at once, and when he comes, the intensity of his release leaves him light-headed.

“Well.” Damon releases him slowly and takes a step back, the tell-tale flush suffusing his face revealing that Alaric isn’t the only one who’s come in his pants that night.

“So.” Alaric clears his throat and watches Damon for a cue about how the rest of their evening will go.

“Want a shower? You scrub my back, I’ll scrub yours.” Damon quirks his lips in a half-smile. “We’ve got bandaids if you want one for your throat. Hope you like Scooby-Doo. It’s the only kind Stefan will buy.”

Alaric chuckles, recognizing the subtle retreat. “Sure, as long as I can have one with Velma on it. She was my favorite.”

“Really? I was always a Daphne guy, myself.” Damon pauses, and then he holds out his hand. Alaric clasps it, and neither of them let go as they head upstairs - another first.

At the top of the steps, Damon stops and turns to face Alaric, studying him in silence for several moments. Whatever he was searching for, he seems to have found because he leans in and kisses Alaric again, slow and gentle this time, and Alaric thinks he can still taste traces of his own blood on Damon’s tongue.

When Damon draws back again, he smiles. One of those rare, genuine smiles devoid of guile or arrogance. Before Alaric can fully enjoy how good it looks on him, it’s gone, and the knowing smirk is back right before Damon smacks Alaric’s ass and saunters away.

“I’m going to get some towels from the linen closet,” he calls over his shoulder. “Nice fluffy ones, just for you. The bandaids are in the medicine cabinet.”

Alaric watches him go for a moment before heading to the bathroom, shaking his head with amusement. He will remember tonight the next time Damon pushes his buttons or does something so infuriating that Alaric wants to strangle him.

Well. He’ll _try_ to remember. One night of profound connection isn’t enough to keep him from becoming exasperated or annoyed or frustrated when dealing with someone like Damon Salvatore.

He reaches up and touches his throat lightly with his fingertips, smiling.

But it’s a start.

-end-


End file.
